


i'll find you static somewhere

by constanted (orphan_account)



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dramedy, Family Drama, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/constanted
Summary: Julia meets some strangers.(or: Lucretia has a rough few years.)





	1. two strangers

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back, I guess.
> 
> this'll be seven chapters total. i promise. and short, too. but i had this idea and i had to write it. it'll make more sense with the next few chapters. but. intro.

It’s sundown when the stranger comes into the store. Her father’s away on business, so she’s working on projects, she’s keeping the books, she’s talking to the customers, she’s doing _everything._ After Willow, the apprentice, got involved with the War, they’d been a worker short.

(No relics had come to Raven’s Roost. Unfortunately. Sure, they’e dangerous, deadly, but _goddamn,_ they’re cool. Julia was pretty sure she could handle them, she’s tough as hell.)

(She had a particular interest in the Animus Bell, which is what had killed Willow.)

(Willow’s soul had been replaced, accidentally, by the soul of a young child.)

(It was messy, it was terrifying, but the _mechanics_ of it were so fucking interesting.)

But anyway. There’s a stranger in the store, which is odd, because there are _never_ strangers in the store, and Julia is, due to the absence of her parted coworker, alone. 

The stranger is tall and beautiful in a sort of ethereal way that Julia doesn’t quite understand. Dark skin, light hair, elegant features. Large, round, silver glasses, a bit of a timid stance, but still, somehow, confident. She’s wearing a long, red jacket, and lugging a bag that smells like lavender. 

The bell on the door rings, softly, sounding off, and it needs fixing desperately. She writes that down in her book, and she turns to look at the stranger.

There’s really no easy way to begin a conversation with someone unfamiliar in a place where everything is so constantly familiar. So, Julia starts this one as best she can:

“Sup?”

The stranger jumps, as if she’s surprised to see someone in the store, despite the fact that it’s open.

“Oh, hello. Um. You—work—here?” and her voice drops, like she’s trying and failing to talk to herself only, “Words, words, words, you’re supposed to be fucking _good_ at those, Lucretia.”

“So, Lucretia is the answer to my next question, then. Name’s Julia. I’m set to take over the place, once my dad’s gone, which—knowing him, isn’t anytime soon, tenacious bastard, bless his soul, or whatever, but. Yeah. Family business. ‘Sup?”

She decides to stick by her opener, because confidence is always key in awkward situations. 

“I—my. Friend. My brother. He’s—he’s fallen ill. A memory curse. Yes.”

“Super specific, Luke. Wanna tell me the truth?”  


“Memory curse is what it is. Honestly, I promise you. And—he won’t remember me, after. He won’t remember a lot about himself. And—if he _does_ remember,” Lucretia pauses, eyes grim, “He’ll get hurt. So I need him away from me, at the risk of his pain. He’s a carpenter. By hobby, more than trade, but. He’s a carpenter. So, when I heard you were down an apprentice, I thought, on his behalf, I’d—I’d show off his portfolio. Help him start over fresh.”

“I—I’m sorry for him.”

“He’s the closest thing I have to family,” her voice breaks, and Julia decides that she trusts Lucretia.

“What’s his name?”

“Magnus.”  
  
“And—he’s your age? Our age, I suppose, I don’t wanna assume your age, but I’m twenty-one, twenty-two in two months, so—”  
  
“About to turn twenty-one. I’m twenty,” she says, and her voice sounds strange pronouncing it. She begins to cry harder.

“Aw, hon’, uh,” Julia is good with emotions, usually, but that’s always with people she knows. She walks closer to Lucretia, lifts the heavy, lavender-scented bag off of the younger woman’s shoulder, and hugs her, “Hey, hey. You got this. You’re—“  
  
“Look, I—I don’t want you to hire him because you pity my—emotional,” she hiccups, “Issues.”

“I’d like to see his work, first, but—we need more employees, fucking _desperately,_ cuz we can’t—demand. Y’know? The city’s growing, and, what with the war, people need distractions. Knick-knacks, and shit. And we’re fairly cheap, as far as artisans go, because my dad’s way too nice, and. Look. If he knows the basics, we can train him. We ”

Lucretia wipes off her face, exhales, and pulls out several wooden ducks, a bench, sized for a toddler, with fire and skulls painted on it in what looked to be nail polish, and a few small pendants. They’re not, like, fullass Tongs-caliber, but they’re pretty damn good. Well-practiced.

"I'm--I'm glad you need people. He's a good man, I promise, he--he just needs  _something."_

“Lemme call dad—pay’s not great, but we can provide a room and food and all that shit—“  
  
“That would be wonderful,” says Lucretia, “Um. I can bring him in a week. That’s—that’s the first time I’ve given this a definitive date. I—“  
  
“Hey. Letting go’s hard,” she says, as she adjusts the frequency of the fancy new Stone of Farspeech that Rosen and her wife next door had given to them to that of her father’s. And her father picks up.

“‘Lo?”  


“Hey, da, uh—we got an applicant for the apprenticeship," the _first_ applicant, and they didn't expect any, "He’s got a lot of potential, and he needs room and board, so—“  
  
“Take him,” says her father.

“Well,” she says, “Let’s—you should see his work first.”  
  
“You said he has potential.”  
  
“Loaded history, though.”  
  
“He there with you?”  
  
“Nah, but his sister is.”  
  
“Not blood sister,” says Lucretia, “Adoptive.”

“Same difference, dude.”  
  
And, after some talk, it is settled upon. Which is weird, but, hey, Julia needs to stay on her toes. Keep ‘em guessing.

Five days after Lucretia’s visit, Julia has a headache. She’s not quite sure why.

A week after Lucretia’s visit, as promised, Lucretia shows up again, a man that looks somehow both exactly and nothing like Julia imagined unconscious on her back. He looks like he’s been out for a while, face unshaved and nail polish chipped. Or maybe that’s just his aesthetic, she’s not one to judge. 

And, as quickly as she appears, Lucretia leaves. Her face is covered, but her eyes are red. Julia offers a hug, but she’s already gone.

And so she’s alone, with an unconscious stranger other porch. Which, fine. Sure. Might as well.

He wakes up after about half an hour, groans a bit, and pushes himself up.

“‘Sup, spaceman?”  
  
“Where am I?”  
  
“Welcome to the Tongs. Finest craftsmen in Raven’s Roost. You’re our new apprentice.”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah. The apprenticeship. Hail and well met—“  
  
“Yeah, I’m, uh. Yeah, I know who you are, uh. I’m Julia. Hail? And what have you.”

“And well met. Magnus.”  
  
“I know your name.”  
  
“‘’Sjust polite.”  
  
“Fair.”  
  
“You got food?”  
  
“ _Very_ polite.”  
  
“Look, Jules, I just woke up on a porch with a—a, concussion? Maybe? I’ve had those before, and this feels like one, and—“  
  
“Yeah, dude, I’m kidding.”  
  
And he laughs.

“I have some coffee left over from breakfast, if you don’t mind it being lukewarm.”  
  
“Oh, yeah, uh. Don’t mind lukewarm coffee. Caffeine’s caffeine’s caffeine, right?”  
  
“Sure.”

And from then on, it’s easy. They _click,_ they have the same dumb sense of humor, and he’s sweet and kind and good. She has lingering questions about his past that she doesn’t ask about, because she can’t. Sometimes he’ll start telling a story that could enlighten her, but he’ll trail off, stare at the wall. She’ll say, “you got this,” and he’ll shake his head, say, “So, tell me a story about you.”  


Always that.

She really does like that, even if she’s worried.

And then, soon after, everything goes to shit.


	2. crashed!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A war passes by, and Lucretia visits a wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cool! this is real expositiony, but. cool!

Kalen arrives, and a revolution is started, and Julia almost forgets about Lucretia entirely.

Keyword being almost.

Because sometimes, things will happen—Miller labs’ll drop off a shipment at the shop by “accident,” and there’s always a “-L” at the end. A painting of the town Magnus calls his home that Julia’s never heard of is suddenly on the kitchen table. Kalen’s guards disappear overnight. These are not frequent happenings, but they’re still _sometimes._

Julia can respect that. 

And they win. Simple as that. Julia takes a bit of credit for herself, as does Magnus, but—Julia has to admit, Lucretia helped too. From a distance, sure, but. Supplies and motivations and carefully orchestrated actions, with the type of organization she and Magnus couldn’t conceive of, much less explain to their rebellion, they were all so desperately important. 

But, whatever. She doesn’t care that much anymore. She’s young, she’s in love, and for the first time in years, she’s safe.

She’s the one who proposes, he’s the one who plans the ceremony—he builds a damn good gazebo. It’s not impromptu by any means, but it’s not quite promptu either, it’s more something that, half-realized for years, became very-realized in about a month’s time. It was fast. Not bad, just fast. And Julia liked fast—her father had said she and Magnus were both too reckless for their own good. 

In spite of the speed of it, the town bands together to give them a ceremony worthy of its heroes. 

(Which is a dumb title, Julia thinks, the heroes of Raven’s Roost. Sure, she led a revolution, but if she hadn’t, someone else would’ve. It was clear, morally.)

(Magnus likes to call himself a hero, but thinks he can earn it more if the two of them ever turn to adventuring, which is their backup, if something ever happens to the shop.)

(But nothing will ever happen to the shop, she reassures herself, because Kalen’s gone and everything’s great. Everything’s great! Sparing a man who wants her dead was the right thing to do! This does not keep her up at night!)

(Magnus has nightmares too. Says he can never remember them, but he mentions tar, and he mentions six blurry faces, and he mentions Kalen.)

(Those first two aren’t fears she’s familiar with, aren’t dreams she knows. That he might remember whatever he forgot terrifies her, because what if it meant that—no, no, that’s selfish, he wouldn’t leave her because of that. That’s dumb. But. Lucretia had said it would hurt him.)

(Fuck, wedding jitters are rough.)

There’s a knock on her door in the temple an hour before the ceremony’s to begin—her father is officiating, because they wanted a secular ceremony—Julia’s a worshipper of the Raven Queen through her father, and is Fantasy Catholic through her mother, whereas Magnus, quote, “doesn’t really remember—I think something about fate? And yarn?” unquote, which rings a bell but which neither Julia nor her father can place. But there’s a knock. and Julia answers.

Magnus, eyes covered, says, “I just wanted to hear your voice.”  
  
“Babe, you can—you can look at me.”  
  
“It’s bad _luck_ ,” he whines, “This has to be perfect, Jules.”  
  
“It doesn’t have to be perfect, hon’,” she says, and she moves his hand, “C’mon. I got your back, you got mine, right?”  
  
“Right,” he says, “Right,” and he smiles, and he kisses her, “You know—I can’t _not_ look at you. And—y’know. Every day, we’ve got each other, now.”

She looks at him, “Your vest’s not on,” she says, and she pokes his chest.

“Shit!”  


“It’s—you got an hour.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” he grins, touches her shoulders, “You look beautiful.”  
  
“So do you.”  


And he leaves.

And five minutes later, there’s another knock.

“I was passing through town,” says Lucretia, dark circles under her eyes, hair tied back, dressed in dark blue, “I’m—I’m going to the Felicity Wilds, there’s—something there that can help me help my family, but—I heard that the heroes were getting married.”  
  
“If he sees you—“ she begins.

“He won’t. He barreled straight through me on my way in. I—I wanted to give you something.”

She pulls a chain off of her neck, one with a bird on it—and it’s same bird, same delicate lines as the seven birds tattooed all around Magnus’ body, the ones he says he got while he was real fucked up.

“I want you to have this. It can be your something borrowed, maybe?”

“I’ll—I’ll take it,” she says, and Lucretia fastens it around Julia’s neck. 

“You look beautiful,” she says, gently. The woman’s voice is tired, restrained.

“He won’t—he won’t die if he sees you, right?”

“Oh—he’ll—I’ve made sure he won’t remember until I’m ready to help him. Okay? He’s fine to see me.”  
  
Which sounds suspicious.

“You—Lucretia. Can I ask—can I ask where you live? In case I ever need to visit, in case he—in case he starts remembering?”  
  
“Currently, I’m based in Neverwinter, though—though I have a Stone of Farspeech, if you’d prefer—“  
  
“Face to face would be best, I think. You know how unreliable those things are.”  
  
“I suppose.”

And Lucretia leaves.

Julia decides that Lucretia is, perhaps, not being entirely honest about Magnus’ memory—about what is and isn’t missing, about how _much_ is missing.

And Julia decides something else.

But first, she gets married. It’s beautiful, it’s everything she could have dreamed of. She and Magnus spend the night in the tavern, rather than at home.

The next morning, she wakes up before him, and she shoves him up.

“Lemme—“  
  
“Babe, it’s—I wanna come with you to the showcase.”  
  
“But the—“  
  
“I decided last night. I—y’know, like—your shitty dreams, and how you said you were basically blacked out for your entire, like, twentieth year of life? I met somebody who can help. Someone who knew you? Who you forgot. Like. Who you grew up with.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“She lives in Neverwinter, and. Well. I wanna have a chat, just the three of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment please!! love you.


	3. who laughs at a funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julia makes a plan. Lucretia ruins it. Magnus learns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's weirdly paced; i'm not quite satisfied w/ it, but. y'know. i think it fits, tonally. sorry about that.

They finish the chair and set off to Neverwinter four weeks later. Convincing her father that she should go too is easy—she knows the city better than Magnus, and the two of them deserve a honeymoon. 

“The cash prize’ll—“  
  
“Well, he hasn’t won _yet,_ dad.”  
  
“I’m hearin’ whispers.”  
  
“You heard whispers that a buddy of yours from Dinterof would win a few years back, and he got his ass kicked by a promising young lady.”  
  
“Don’t be smug, now.”  


“I’m just sayin’, you never know.”  
  
“You’ve seen his chair.”  
  
“Yes, and it’s real good—“  


Magnus reenters, having attached the aforementioned chair to the top of the wagon.

“I’m just playin’ devil’s advocate against myself, dad, the financials of it aren’t necessarily—they’re not flawless, dad.”  
  
“Can I let you two be happy?”  
  
“You’re not curmudgeonly enough, is all I’m saying.”

“Maybe you’re a little _too_ curmudgeonly, hon’,” says Magnus.

“Shut up, spaceman, I proposed this trip. I’m just trying to evoke some drama.”  
  
Magnus pats her shoulder.  
  
“You kids be safe,” says her father, and he kisses her on the cheek, gives Magnus a hearty handshake.

“Can’t promise that,” she  
  
“Of course you can’t,” he smiles at them, “Love you two.”

“I—I love you as well.”

And she walks out the door of the shop, hears that familiar bell chime.

(That is the last conversation she has with her father.)  
  
(That old saying, about the inequality of exits, on most being unremarkable, unintentional, clumsy—it rings in her head when she hears the news.)

(But the news isn’t out yet. The news hasn’t even begun yet.)

Magnus is singing a song she’s never heard while he drives, claiming it was a hit and that he _totally_ did a project on it for his high school music appreciation class.

“I got a B plus.”  
  
“Look, I _love_ dad-rock, you _know this,_ and I have never heard that song at a pub or anything—“  
  
“Nah, we heard it on the radio.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“The radio? Like—“ he imitates turning a doorknob, “Y’know. Radio.”  
  
“Dude, I have literally no idea what you’re talking out. Actually. That gives me an idea. We need to figure out what the fuck about your past to ask this woman.”  
  
“Oh _deffo,_ cuz of—there’s weird stuff that I don't get.”  
  
“You do math weird,” she offers, “Like—not _wrong,_ most of the time you get the numbers right—“  
  
“‘Most’ is generous.”  
  
“Did I finally find a place where you’re humble? _Math?_ But, like, my point is, you do it _entirely_ different from the way anyone I know was taught. Also, you’re always cold. Even when it’s _boiling_ outside, you complain about how cold it is.”  
  
“And _you_ haven’t heard of, like, ninety percent of towns ever—“  
  
“Because they don’t exist! I’ve shown you maps!”  
  
Julia pulls out a notebook from her bag, starts writing down notes.

Here is what is important to know: Magnus is twenty-four years old. Sometimes, he gets that wrong. Magnus has an adoptive sister who he does not remember, and who potentially made him not remember. Magnus is confused by technology. Magnus does not remember where or when he learned carpentry or how to fight. Magnus’ hometown has never existed. Magnus, for all of their trying in the wedding plans, does not have any certificates to prove of his own existence.

Julia is twenty-five years old, and she can’t imagine not knowing that. She is an only child, she thinks, though she might have a half-sibling through her mother. She's unsure. They weren’t close. Julia knows her geography, and knows how things work. Obviously. She remembers the first time she ever carved anything, and the first time she snuck into the rogue’s guild. She has a birth certificate in her bedroom, in an envelope.

She is certain that she is in the majority here.

“Jules, can I—can I ask what my sister, or my friend, or whatever—what she looks like?”  
  
And Julia starts sketching. She’s not an artist, necessarily, but she had to learn technical drawing fairly young, and she has a decent memory, so she pictures Lucretia’s lithe form, her sharp face, her eyes—so gentle and so alone and so cold at the same time.

(Julia likes to capture emotion. Sue her.)

Magnus, when he sees the catch, squints at it, like there’s something tugging in the back of his mind that he can’t quite place. Julia tenses. She doesn’t trust anything Lucretia’s told her, not anymore, but—the idea that this could hurt him worries her. No, terrifies her. No, horrifies her.

Well. All three verbs work.

They arrive in Neverwinter two days early.

“Here’s the plan for LucretiaQuest—we know she’s connected to the Millers, who, are—y’know. Fairly shady. But they have a public lab _here,_ and Maureen Miller is set to give a press-conference about space travel—imagine _that_ , by the way, holy _shit—_ this evening at said public lab _._ So, uh, I’m thinking that we—“  
  
“You know I’m shitty at undercover! I’m more of a rush-in-type!”  
  
“Yeah, babe, that’s your whole thing, so—we’re not going undercover. We have a certain cred to our names, we’re—well, we kind of—“  
  
“Kicked an evil dude’s ass and saved a city.”  
  
“Yeah, that, so. Basically, ch’girl got us two VIP tickets to the afterparty. And we’re gonna yell at the generation’s greatest scientist until she reveals ”  
  
“Gods, I love you.”  
  
“And I love yelling at people who lie!”  
  
“I _know._ ”  
  
“And you too. Obvi. I love you more than that, but, like—y’know. The point of the mission.”  
  
But, see, the point of the mission is kind of missed out on when they’re drunk off their asses, taking turns giving each other piggy-back rides across the violet-lit party, as is their wont. Julia is navigating Magnus to the quiche on the other side of the room when he accidentally knocks over a woman holding a long, wooden cane.

“Magn—“

“Hi Lucretia!” says Julia, dismounting, “Uh. Imagine seeing you here?”  
  
She hiccups.

“Julia.”

“You look different.”

Meekly, “Polite of you.”  
  
“It’s not bad, it’s just, like, you’ve aged fifteen years in, like, three weeks.”

“Twenty.”  
  
“Shit, so it’s not as bad in execution as concept, at least!”  
  
“So you’re _Lucretia_ ,” says Magnus, staring at her like he’s trying to get some meaning out of her face, and he sounds out the syllables again, “Lou Creesh Uh.”

“We would like answers please and thank you.”  


Lucretia grabs a drink off of a tray from a waiter behind her and downs it in one sip.

“There’s—unrelated to me, there’s something the two of you need to know. News from—I. I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this.”  


“Well, you should be the one to tell us a lot of things. Especially him, you owe him, like—and me, cuz you deffo lied at least a _little_ bit to me. Cuz your stories don’t add up? And—“  
  
“Raven’s Roost was bombed,” blurts Lucretia, “It happened maybe two hours ago.”  
  
And Julia almost laughs. And then, she more than almost laughs, and she has to hold her stomach to stop from throwing up as she really does laugh.

“I didn’t—I was so worried that you two—“  
  
“Was it—?” Magnus asks, and Julia stops being able to make out words, around then. She feels herself being lifted up, and she does not want to be touched, right now, but—

She wakes up in blue bed sheets. Magnus is sitting in his rocking chair, looking at her sadly, fondly.

“I’m gonna throw up,” she says.

“Bucket on the nightstand.”  


She grabs it.

“Lucretia’s letting us stay in her place.”  
  
“Nice of her. Did she—“  
  
“Showed, didn’t tell. Very her. I’m—I’m tryin’ to call the shop, but.”  
  
“I—he was going for us. Of course you can’t reach them.”  
  
“Don’t blame yourself—“  
  
“If I don’t, you’ll blame _your_ self.”

“Don’t put that on me. I—Luc’s tracking him down. You want coffee?”  
  
“Don’t think I can process it, right now.”  
  
“Get that. Get that, get that, get that."  


His eyes are red.

“I’ll take it lukewarm, later, though.”  
  
“Of course you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(  
> comment, maybe?  
> love u


	4. the mourning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucretia explains. Julia doesn't cry. Magnus tells a story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grief is neither super familiar nor super unfamiliar to me--it's never necessarily been as close to me as how i've portrayed it in this chapter, though, so if i fucked up the emotions, i'm sorry. also, i'm very, very uncomfortable writing blatant sadshit, and blatant heterosexuality (tho i read mags and jules as bi, so. whatever), so. the tone is a lil weird. oops.
> 
> anyway. 
> 
> enjoy!

In the kitchen, Magnus won’t make eye contact with Lucretia, who keeps speaking in static. Julia doesn’t have the energy to ask what happened, why he’s like this.

“Forty dead,” says Lucretia, “That’s the current count. Town’s being evacuated—“

“ _Don’t_ talk about them,” Magnus hisses, “You’ve pulled enough shit today—“

“Your father-in-law.”

“Don’t."

“I’m _here,_ ” Julia says, somehow both sharper and as duller than she intends.

“He came into power by using the —“

“She can’t hear that, Luc,” says Magnus, “Babe, I—if this convo’s gonna work out, you’re gonna need to drink this.”

He hands her a mug.

“S’cocoa. We ran outta coffee.”

“Dairy-free?”

“Soy, and Luc made it all foamy so it tastes like. Good, real hot chocolate, but it won’t make you throw up?”

She smiles, soft, “Appreciate it.”

There’s something off about the taste of the drink.

And then.

She remembers something, “He had the Bulwark Staff when he took over? Does he—does he still?” 

“No. Because I have it now. Have had it for years. Took it when I dropped Magnus off, but—well, he was in power. He had already established himself.”

“That’s not—“ and she feels sick again, “What are _you_ doing with it? Only one with knowledge of these items?”

“I’m trying to destroy them. I— _we_ created the relics to stop this world’s destruction, and we accidentally brought it to a destruction of our own. I wanted to protect the innocent from—from _us._ Magnus, you _said_ my plan was plan b! You—“

“I didn’t mean for you to do it alone!”

“What would you have done, then? You were—you were _so_ out of it. All of you. And Lup was the breaking point—“

“You created the Grand Relics?” asks Julia. Her head is spinning. 

“We’re not of this world, Julia. Myself, your husband, five others—“

“I married a space alien?’ Julia’s eyes perk up, for a second, “That’s—babe? That’s kinda hot.”

“Way to pick up the mood,” says Magnus, and he smiles, reaches over and touches her hand. She keeps it there.

“Why’d you—why’d you make him forget? Make _us_ forget?”

“We were suffering, knowing what we’d done to the the world. I—I couldn’t stand to see my _family_ hurting. And I had a solution. Have a solution. And then, one of our—Lup. She made the Gauntlet, she—she ran away. And that was the tipping point.”

“You could have told me! Or Merle, fuck, he’d’ve helped! Not _well,_ I guess, but—“

“ _I_ didn’t do enough to stop this,” says Lucretia, “And—look, because of what _I_ made, Magnus, your father-in-law is dead. I made mine with the intention of not hurting anyone. But I gave a madman a rise to power.”  
  
“And you don’t deserve to live with that guilt any more than I do! Or Lup does! Or Barry or Taako or Merle or Cap’n’port—And where are they? I’ve—I’ve seen Taako, he’s—“  
  
“Broken. And, just accidentally poisoned forty people. Merle started a family, which he abandoned. Barry is MIA, probably can’t remember a damn thing, and Lup’s—“  
  
“ _Don’t_. Cap’n’port?”  
  
Julia writes these names down as the conversation drones, she can’t _focus_ on anything, her friends are dead, why isn’t Magnus in this same place? Why is—why is she mourning alone?  


She moves her hand out from under Magnus’, and she runs to the room she woke up in. There’s a middle-aged gnomish man with a well-trimmed, but greying mustache, on the chair.

She stares at him.

He stares back.

She continues staring, and he leaves, and she sits down on the bed, curls up, and tries to make herself cry.

Minutes (Seconds? Moments? Hours?) later, Magnus enters, and says, “May I hug?”  
  
She doesn’t move, but she nods, and he gets into bed next to her.

“I can’t cry, that feels—that feels like it’s bad, like—You. You lost your parents. How did you—“  
  
“My parents fuckin’ sucked, babe, but, uh, first time Merle died, it was before we figured out how—how death _works,_ when you travel through dimensions. But he was like my dad. Reminds me a little bit of yours, if yours was meaner and weirdly into plants instead of birds.”  
  
“He was a worshipper of _Pan?_ ”  
  
“Yeah. But first time Merle died, I just—I lost it, cuz. He and Luc got me my job, he was the reason I was where I was. I didn’t come out of my room for days. Didn’t sleep. Broke three fingers punching walls, til—look. It’s—everybody responds differently. Lucretia threw herself into her work, uh, Taako was weird to anyone who showed any emotion, just—plain blasé, and—that’s. Besides the point, I guess. But I—I got you. Death is fucking difficult.”  
  
“He wanted a natural death. That’s the—that’s the best way to go out, in the Raven Queen’s domain. Old and happy, or in a blaze of glory, that’s how you go out if you want in good.”

Magnus opens his mouth to make a joke, but he stops, and he puts his hands on Julia’s face.

“Guess he thought we’d do the latter?” she says.

“Oh, def.”

He’s quiet, for a moment.

“I’m sorry if I—“  
  
“No. I—“

“What can I do to help?”  
  
“I—I feel numb. Right now. Just. Out of it.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I don’t like not feeling.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“And now I’m thinking about not feeling, and I’m not really huge on that.”  
  
“Fair.”  
  
“So. Distract me, I guess? With something—“  
  
“How ‘bout a story? I got a shitton of those now.”  
  
“Yes. I love stories.”

“I know you do. Cuz you're a nerd. And I love you. Where should I start?”

“The beginning, dumbass.”  
  
“How about—let’s start in the city of Candesen: the technological and scientific capital of the world. Or. Like, ten miles outside of it, in a smaller town—Winstorm.”

“Your hometown.”  
  
“Yeah. And Luc’s, but we—we didn’t really know each other? We went to the same primary school til—well. She was smarter than anybody, so, she transferred into advanced classes and then the university pretty damn fast, but. We didn’t know each other. We met when I ran away, actually! She was visiting home, bout to drive back to the university in the city, when she saw me?”  
  
“I forgot that you’d run away, Mags.”

“Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. And she was—she was younger, and she was panicking, because something terrible had happened—that’s—her biz. And I was a better driver, so I offered to drive and bodyguard in exchange for the transport. And we—well, we ran.”

Julia loses herself in the story, lets herself lose herself in it.

She feels warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment! i love you!


	5. family counselling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julia does some family counseling. Magnus is justifiably a bit of a dick. Lucretia regrets revealing her romantic life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorter chapter, more focused on the ipre kids. tldr: julia is coping in a Not Great Way and that Not Great Way is getting way the fuck involved in these dramz.

Lucretia sits the two of them down the next day. Julia’s feeling sick, still, but she’d rather think about the fucking horrible space soap opera that her husband is wrapped up in instead of her whole life being destroyed the second she left it alone. 

“I don’t forgive you.” 

“I don’t expect you to.”  


Julia says, “Okay, so let me—let me get this straight,” and she tents her hands under her chin, “You two—and, uh, the gnome I keep seeing—you guys are aliens. From space.”  
  
“Another dimension, but this—this planet is the equivalent to our planet, so. Not technically?”  
  
“Oh, definitely technically. So. Your planet got eaten?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And so you—you spent one hundred years watching other planets get eaten, til you ended up here, which is—how is it _dis_ similar to y’all’s home?”  
  
“Blue sky, one less sun, and less technology. That’s why sometimes I say weird words that don’t—like. That don’t make sense? Because they don’t exist here yet.”  
  
“Cool use of the word _yet,_ considering the likelihood that this place’ll probs get eaten too, babe.”  
  
“Well, we—we fixed that. It’s not coming.”

“But the planet was _eating itself alive,_ Magnus—“  
  
“And—I know I’m not a scientist or a prodigy, but—your plan’ll cut off the bonds—“  
  
“Wait, so bonds are—bonds are a real thing? Not just a philosophical concept—“  
  
“Oh! Yeah, we have _so_ much science on that, like—they’re tangible too! Which is cool. They’re—“  
  
And Magnus and Lucretia cut each other off, explaining tiny differences, explaining nuances. Occasionally, Magnus will make a rude comment about memory. Which Julia gets but—

Julia and her mother are not on good terms. Her mother left Raven’s Roost when Julia was ten, leaving only a note with “Can’t stay any longer. Called to something Higher. Love you darling. Love you Jules.”

Her father was quiet for weeks, after that. She does not blame him. She didn’t quite understand what was going on.

But if Julia and her mother were to reunite, Julia wouldn’t confront in the tiny jabsMagnus is throwing at his sister. She would confront, yell for a bit, and, hopefully, there would be a hug afterward. Hopefully. No promises

Her mother is not a bad person. She has read stories about aasimar—her people, she supposes, and it is—it is their nature to run. Her mother was never one to resist nature.

And Lucretia is not a bad person either. She saved the only world Julia has ever known. She hurt her own family in the process, but Magnus found happiness, didn’t he? And she _saved the world._ That redeems a person.

( _But she couldn’t have saved Raven’s Roost, huh?_ asks the voice in her that sounds like Kalen.)

Maybe, Julia thinks, she’s too forgiving.

Magnus continues his small comments, and Lucretia flinches every time.

“I—I have a proposal,” says Lucretia, “I promise you, Magnus, my plan will work, I just need you to help me. After I tried to get the bell—“  
  
“Inoculate the Captain first.”  
  
“I _will_ once I get this out. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, _Magnus_ , is to help me fucking retrieve the relics. You were closer to Taako than I was, you’d have an idea as to where he’d—“  
  
“Mine’s safe.”  
  
“We assume.”

“I’ve never heard of a Chalice,” says Julia, “And I can name all of the others.”  
  
“Yeah! Jack and June wouldn’t’ve—“  
  
“So go and get it. I can get you transport, Maureen and I—“  
  
“Oooh, _Maureen_ and you? First name basis?”  
  
“None of your business, _Magnus._ ”  
  
“Older human women,” he raises his eyebrows, “Didn’t seem your style. Always stuck to girls our age. Or Lup. And, well. Guess that's not an option--"  
  
“Don't say her name. And technically, she’s only _five years older_. Even more technically, I’m _decades_ older. And aren’t you angry at me?”  
  
“I can still disapprove of your girlfriend—“  
  
“She is not—regardless. Maureen and I can arrange transportation for the two of you.”  
  
“Oh, you’re coming too.”  
  
“I—“  
  
“What? You don’t wanna risk your—“  
  
“They fucking—when I was trying to get the bell, I was stuck with bad luck. I was cursed by it, I—I can’t escape bad luck. I—I can’t walk like I used to, Magnus, my eyesight’s worse, I lost _memories—_ “  
  
“Must’ve been hard,” he sounds like trying not to laugh.

“We’ll do it,” says Julia, “And we’ll protect you, Lucretia, we’ll need a powerful mage, and—I’ve read adventuring stories, Mags. My point is, you seem to fit the bill, huh?”

“I suppose I do, but—“  


“So you’re coming. And you two are gonna re-fucking-connect.”

Julia smiles, fist clenched.

And, after some mumbling, they agree.

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment please!


	6. reunited and it feels okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus finds a dad. Lucretia finds an umbrella. Julia finds herself coming to a breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UHHHH

They do not make it to the Woven Gulch, because they stop in Phandalin for rest, and stumble upon a family reuinion, of sorts.

“So you _left_ her?” shouts a dwarf to a slightly similar-looking dwarf in a bar, “And the _kids?_ Highchurch, you—“  
  
“Woah, sorry,” says Lucretia, “ _Merle_ Highchurch? I saw you speak on my trip to the coast, and—I must say, I’m no Panite, but you were _very_ impressive.”  
  
“I’ve never seen y—“  
  
“Aw, c’mon Merle, we’re _big fans_!” contributes Magnus. 

“Yes, your words on—uh. Trees,” starts Julia, “Were very moving.”

“Sir,” pleads Lucretia, “Can we—can we steal Merle, for a moment, just—grab some autographs.”

And the other dwarf relents.

“He’s a friend,” whispers Magnus, “He’s—he’s the cleric guy.”  


“Context clues, hon’.”  


“Just making sure.”  
  
“Who the hell are you?”  
  
“Lucretia!” says Magnus, proud, “The ichor!”  
  
“I—I thought you brought it.”  
  
“No, I—Davenport kept the cup I handed him when he stormed out. Why would _I_ be the one to bring it, you’re the one who’s repenting—“  


“Okay, _repent_ is a strong verb—“  
  
“You once called a _muffin_ multitudinous—“  
  
“I was _high_ and so were _you—“_

Meanwhile, Merle is staring at Julia expectantly.

“Um. We’re just a couple of do-gooders. We—we’re going on a quest and—well, we weren’t lying when we said we saw your sermon. We were impressed. You’ve got potential, and—uh. Scrap. Grit. That’s the word! Grit. And, well, we value that.”  
  
“Look, sister, I—“  
  
“Don’t act like I took _everything_ from _you,_ you turned out the _best_ of _all_ of them, Barry and Lup are fucking _dead_ and Merle’s a _deadbeat,_ Taako’s almost as broken as the _fucking Captain_! I fucked up everybody else, you can call me on that, but—“  
  
“What happened with them?” asks Merle.

“Family drama.”  
  
Magnus yells, “You made me _settle!_ You knew it wouldn’t last—you know what’s happened to every single think I’ve ever given a _shit_ about—“

And Julia feels like he’s just stabbed her.

“Magnus, you—“

“I’m still here,” she says, voice burning, “Did you _settle_ for me?”  
  
“Babe—“  
  
“Are you going to put the weight of every single person I’ve ever known _dying_ on your own shoulders, gonna blame yourself for that? Act like you’re the only one effected by an attack that hit the only fucking place I know?”  
  
“Fuck,” says Merle, “You kids—have some baggage. Wait—non-kid. You said my name?”  
  
“You can still call me kid, Merle, please.”  
  
“You’re about the human equivalent of my age, sis. Let’s not flatter ourselves, now.”  
  
“I—was talking about a different Merle?”  
  
“Julia, I—“

“Don’t try and—I know it wasn’t directed at me, just—consider that maybe, maybe! _Good_ things came out of this situation?”  
  
“I know,” he says, softer.

“What _different_ Merle who’s a _deadbeat_?”  
  
“It’s actually, statistically, the most common name among—“  
  
“Hey, sorry to cut out this convo, folks, but my husband and I are trying to settle something?”  
  
Lucretia mutters something, and Merle says, “Marriage is a trap, kid.”  
  
“It’s really _not._ ”

Magnus hugs her, and she says, “Don’t treat me like an afterthought, I’m—You’re what I got left of home, and I hope I’m that for you too.”

“Yeah,” he says, “You are. I got your back, you got mine.”

“Til death and after, yeah.”

And she kisses his cheek. She’s still a bit mad, and—she knows it wasn’t intentional, that it’s all this family drama that’s getting to him, but—it still stings to be dust.

“So,” drawls Lucretia, mid-schmaltz, “Uh, there are some _mines,_ and, well, I didn’t have access to the _resources_ I needed to get them? But I think it’s where the Gauntlet is, if we’re—if we’re willing to quest. Because, with Merle, we have—we have what we need. Sorry to interrupt your moment, but—“  
  
“Glove huntin’ might make the vibes a little better, frankly,” says Magnus. Julia nods.  


“What the _hell_ are you guys talking about?”  
  
“Merle? You’re coming with us. And—look, I’ll explain to you soon—“

“Or she won’t,” says Magnus. Lucretia shushes him.

“Might wanna learn your names first, but—anything to get me away from that dick.”

The mines are difficult to navigate, but not impossible. So long as they stick together—she and her sword, Lucretia and her staff, Magnus and his axe, and Merle and—nothing much but Zone of Truth. Which reminds her of her dad, when she and her friends would fight as kids. He would always cast it, always make them talk it out face-to-face.

Gods, that man.

Merle is the one casting it now, but the results are exactly the same, which is to say, a lot of tears and hugs.

“Look, I—I’m not _that_ mad, even though I should be—“  
  
“You should _hate_ me, _I_ hate me, Mag, I—“  
  
“Don’t say that—“  
  
“Guys, there’s a dead body over there—“  
  
“One second, um—Julia, I—I’m sorry I haven’t been the best—“  
  
“Look, I love you, and—I know what you mean. I’m _good_ with the way I’m mourning, which is to say, doing rad shit and helping others in the name of my city—but, like—there’s a dead body there, hon’.”

A dead body, all bones, dressed in crimson and holding an umbrella between skeletal fingers.

“No,” says Lucretia, and she runs toward it, almost falling over at it.

“Don’t—is it?”  
  
“She’s—“

Lucretia picks up the umbrella.

“She’s not stupid enough to lock her own lich inside of this.”  
  
“She’s not stupid,” says Magnus, “But—if I remember right—“  
  
“Wait, you worked with _liches_?” asks Julia. Look. She grew up worshipping the goddess of natural death. Liches are _bad_. She read her parables.

  
“This is the first thing about my old job you have issues with?”  
  
“No, I have issues with the planes that got _eaten,_ but—that’s, like, _inherently_ wrong—“  
  
“We were operating in dangerous circumstances!”  
  
“I’m—are you ladies and fella part cyborg?”  


“Yes,” say Magnus and Julia just as Lucretia says, “Absolutely not.”  
  
“Yes and,” scolds Magnus, “We did improv as team building!”  


“Poorly. But, yes, Julia. In a time of great struggle, where death and undeath never really _stuck,_ we needed to make sure someone would be there for the new year. I never—I never agreed with their choice, but—it was what we needed to do to survive.”  
  
“I—“

“Let’s have her explain? Maybe?”

Magnus grabs the umbrella and he breaks it in half like it’s a twig.

“That’s a _powerful magical—“_

A noise drowns out the room. A spectral woman—blurry and somewhere between skeleton and body, glowing red.

_“Who_ dares _disrupt my slum—_ I’m fucking joking. Took you nerds long enough!”

“How long you been planning that one?”  
  
“I had a whole bit planned if it was a stranger, one if it was Taako, and one if it was Barry. One for all seven of you. But three, plus a stranger? So I’ve been planning that one since I heard Magnus’ voice.”

“Nice. Lup, this is my wife, she’s chill as hell. Also she’s the best thing that happened to me maybe ever and I’m sorry for implying otherwise, babe—“  
  
“It’s—babe. Chill. None of us are in great states.”

“Wait—you got _married?_ That’s fucking _rich,_ next thing you’re gonna say that _Merle—“_

“Doesn’t know about the I-P-R-E,” chimes Lucretia, “I—“  
  
“Did some morally questionable shit with _my_ fish.”

And Julia says, “Let’s get off that subject and get back to getting the gauntlet maybe? She made this one, if I recall correctly, so, uh—“  
  
“It’s in the vault,” says Lup, sighing, “I can phase through and unlock it from the inside.”  
  
“What the _shit_ ,” says Merle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're interested in original fiction by me that is paced better than this and also funnier, check out violetbeachpod.tumblr.com. the show's set to debut in november, and is currently casting/fundraising, so, uh. yeah.
> 
> if you comment/kudo, i love you!

**Author's Note:**

> I Love My Kids.  
> title from static somewhere by girlpool.  
> yahooanswer @ tumblr.


End file.
